


Worth the Weight

by chubbuckies



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Sherlock, Feeder Steve, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, M/M, Weight Gain, magical weight gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbuckies/pseuds/chubbuckies
Summary: Bucky gets real big real quick from a magic curse.
Steve doesn't mind.





	Worth the Weight

**Author's Note:**

> I've been lurking in this community for so long, and I've finally posted something. Check me out at chubbuckies.tumblr.com and send me prompts, too!

The thing about being an Avenger is that it makes you work up an appetite.

Steve knows this better than anyone, what with his metabolism. But the way Buck’s been eating since they got back from their latest mission is a little strange.

But then the doorbell rings, and Steve goes to get Bucky’s fourth take-out order of the night. It’s Indian this time. He’s gone through pizza, Chinese, fried chicken, and now Indian. For reference: Steve had his own pizza and an order of dumplings. Bucky ate everything else. Their trash is full of plastic and cardboard containers, and there are paper towels and empty cans of Coke surrounding where he parked his ass on the couch. He’s in front of the TV, of course, and just finishing up the last chicken thigh as Steve deposits his latest order.

“Thanks,” Bucky says, grabbing the new containers with greasy fingers. “Jesus, this smells good. Want some? A samosa or something?”

“Nah,” Steve says, dropping down next to Bucky. He kind of eyes him up and down, eyes widening when he gets a look at Bucky’s bloated stomach. It looks round and packed, significantly larger than it was just a few hours ago. “Sure you don’t wanna save this for tomorrow?” Steve asks, concerned.

“I know it’s insane, but I’m still _hungry_ ,” Bucky says, opening up a container of vindaloo. He inhales deep, eyes shutting. “Smell that,” he orders, shoving the container towards Steve. Steve takes a whiff, and it does smell good — but Bucky snatches it away just as quickly as he pushed it over. He grabs a plastic fork from the takeout bag and digs in, shoveling the food into his mouth, moaning with appreciation. When he’s done with the vindaloo, he pauses to burp behind his hand, chug a can of Coke, and go in for more.

Steve wants to groan, too, but for very different reasons.

“We got any of that ice cream left?” Bucky asks as he nears the end of his Indian binge. Steve sits on the nearby easy chair, pretending to watch TV, but really just watching Bucky pack it away.

“Yeah,” Steve says, “Pretty sure we’ve got some in the fridge. Why?” he asks, almost afraid of what the answer will be.

Bucky nods, lays a hand on his stomach. It looks rounder than it was when he first started eating the vindaloo. Bucky’s slouching, which only emphasizes the curve of it. His breath is a little shallow and his cheeks look red. Steve’s seen Bucky perform amazing feats of physical strength, athletic endurance without so much as a pause. Somehow, it seems that take-out is what’s going to slow Bucky Barnes down.

“Would you mind grabbing me a bowl?” he asks, giving Steve a sheepish smile, cheeks red from the exertion of eating so much and embarrassment. “I think I’ll just rustle everything if I try standing up.”

“Sure thing, Buck,” Steve asks, then adds, “Want me to make it a sundae?” because he is the worst friend ever, and this is the closest thing he’ll ever get to all of his secret fantasies coming true all at once.

Bucky groans, throwing his head back. “Jesus, Steve, it’s like you’re reading my mind.”

Steve chuckles. “Wait here,” he says.

He returns just a few minutes later with a mixing bowl filled with strawberry, vanilla and chocolate ice cream, whipped cream, two bananas, and four cookies, with marshmallows, sprinkles, strawberries and cherries sprinkled on top. It’s ridiculous and too much, and Steve knows that as he hands Bucky the bowl.

Bucky eats it all and scrapes the bowl clean.

 

——

 

“Morning,” Bucky says, walking into the kitchen and stifling a yawn. His hair is messy, his eyes are sleepy, and his belly is—

Something that exists.

Now, the logical part of Steve’s mind is telling him that it’s just residual bloat from Buck’s massive supper. No one could digest all that food in one night, and it’s gotta stay somewhere. But upon further inspection, it’s not just Bucky’s stomach that seems to have thickened up. His flesh arm strains the sleeve of his t-shirt, and his thighs look like sausages shoved into his sleeping pants. When he looks at Steve head-on, his chin rests in a little pocket of fat, and his cheeks look puffy. Even his pecs seem softer, nipples making more of a presence than usual beneath his — unusually tight — shirt.

“Buck,” Steve says, “Have you looked in the mirror?”

Bucky shakes his head, plopping into a chair at the kitchen table with a little sigh. His ass spreads on the seat, and Steve can’t help but wiggle with simultaneous excitement and discomfort. “Don’t gotta look in a mirror to know I’m the hottest guy in the room.” He grins rakishly, newly round cheeks dimpling, and Steve thinks very sinful thoughts.

“Not arguing there,” Steve says, which just makes Bucky roll his eyes, “but it seems like…” How can he phrase this without sounding like a paranoid asshole? “There’s a little more of you than usual.”

“What?” Bucky asks, shifting in his seat. He pulls at the waistband of his pants, trying to find some give that just isn’t there.

“You’re looking a little…” Steve starts, his cheeks going red. “Fluffy, Buck. Like maybe you gained a few.”

Bucky snorts. “Jesus, Steve. One cheat night won’t make me actually gain weight. You forgetting about the super soldier metabolism? Couldn’t gain weight, even if I wanted…” He pauses, glancing down, his own cheeks going a little red.

Steve swears internally. He didn’t want to embarrass Buck.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he says, turning to face the stove. “You want breakfast?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Bucky says with a little more enthusiasm than Steve expected from someone who had the dinner Bucky had.

“Pancakes?”

“Mhmm.” Bucky pauses, then adds, “Can you believe that I’m starving? Even after last night all I wanna do is chow down.”

Steve excuses himself to the restroom before he gets a start on breakfast.

 

——

 

Bucky just keeps eating.

He eats nearly thirty pancakes, a pound of bacon, and drains all the orange juice they have in the apartment for breakfast. But he doesn’t stop there — he snacks throughout the morning, eating apples and bananas, then switching to chips and cookies before lunch. Lunch is a stack of buffalo wings, mozzarella sticks, two burgers and a molten chocolate cake from a nearby restaurant they frequent. (And the double take their usual server gives Bucky is enough to confirm Steve’s suspicions that something isn’t normal about Bucky’s appearance.) The afternoon sees Bucky eat four roast beef sandwiches with cheese and horseradish mayo spread, and by the time they head to the all-you-can-eat sushi bar for dinner, Steve swears that Bucky’s belly is already bigger.

Steve can see it jiggle from beneath Bucky’s obviously too-tight shirt, and all he wants to do is touch it, stroke it, rub it and feel all that food inside Bucky.

(When Steve suggests Bucky order some green tea ice cream for dessert, Bucky doesn’t say no.)

 

——

 

“Steve!” Bucky calls from his room the next morning.

Steve is at the stove again, cooking up some sausages sizzling in butter. When Bucky calls again more urgently, he pushes the pan to the side and heads to Buck. “What is it?” he asks, though Steve thinks he can guess what’s going on.

Bucky is standing in the middle of the room, a pair of too-tight jeans clinging to his thighs but unzipped and stretched around his hips. “These fit yesterday,” Bucky says, looking down at the offending garment with consternation. “All my pants fit yesterday, but now none of ‘em do.”

It’s not hard to see why — today’s additions include thick, round love handles that cling to Bucky’s sides, curvaceous hips that can barely be constrained by his jeans, and a pair of thick, juicy pecs. But what’s most impressive is that belly. What was just a tight little ball yesterday has blossomed into a _gut_ , round and wide, sticking out from Bucky’s body like someone just tacked a beach ball onto his front. His shirt is obviously too small, straining around the widest part of that belly and outlining his pecs. But Steve can’t look away from where his shirt _isn’t_ reaching: the small strip of lower belly that juts out beneath, covered in small pink stretch marks.

“There’s something—“ Steve tries, but his dry voice cracks like a teenager’s. Bucky raises an eyebrow. “There’s something off about…” He gestures to Bucky’s belly.

“What?” Bucky asks, grinning. He moves a hand to his belly and traces the swell of it. “You don’t think most guys gain fifty pounds in two days?”

Only in Steve’s dreams.

 

——

 

Bucky thumps on the couch, landing ass first. His chubby cheeks are red and he’s huffing a little from the staircase up to the apartment. He pulls a Snickers bar out of the grocery bag he’s carrying and bites into it thoughtfully.

“You seem to be taking this well,” Steve says, dropping the rest of their bags off in the kitchen and sitting next to his friend.

Bucky shrugs. “As far as curses go, this ain’t so bad.” He takes another big bite of his Snickers. “‘Sides, Strange said it’ll wear off in a day or two.”

“Right,” Steve says, watching as Bucky roots through his bag and pulls out another candy bar.

“So, my thought is… Why not test the limits, y’know? Just in case anyone else gets cursed. It’s like…”

“An experiment?”

Bucky nods, shoving the rest of his Snickers bar in his mouth. “Yeah,” he says, nodding and swallowing before opening up the second bar — a Milky Way, Steve notices. “An experiment.” He looks at Steve as he takes a bite of the Milky Way, eyes dark and smiling around the chocolate.

Steve has always been reckless, stupid. He thinks that what he’s about to say will either be the dumbest mistake of his life or the greatest accomplishment he’s ever had.

“If you really want to push things to the limit, I could help?” Steve offers. “I mean, in case you feel like you would want to stop, or something like that.”

Bucky puts down the Milky Way — just about the first time he’s stopped eating all day — and looks at Steve for a moment. “You wanna feed me?” he asks. Steve nods, heart hammering. “You wanna rub my stomach, make sure everything’s going in okay?” Steve resists the urge to groan and just nods, instead. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” Bucky says, closing the space between them and pulling Steve into a hot, chocolatey-tasting kiss.

“Buck,” Steve groans.

“Touch me,” Bucky demands, and Steve acquiesces, putting his hands on Bucky’s big ball of a stomach. It feels so soft under his hand, but somehow firm. He grabs a pocket of fat and squeezes, Bucky groaning beneath Steve’s mouth.

“Get your computer. I don’t think we’re gonna wanna go out tonight.”

Steve agrees.

 

——

 

They order enough delivery to feed all of Avengers Tower; yet, somehow Bucky eats it all. Egg rolls and donuts, spaghetti and empanadas. Bucky swallows every last bite Steve pushes through his lips, cheeks red, and stomach ever-expanding. He gains and gains, growing curves with every bite. After sushi, a roll develops around his waist, a spare tire that only expands as he moves onto the ribs. His chin sinks deeper into the growing pocket beneath it, and Steve bites hickeys into it, marveling as he watches them stretch before his very eyes. As Bucky eats a fried chicken breast, Steve starts on _his_ chest, cupping his large tits, tracing his bloated, round nipples with his tongue. Steve straddles Bucky’s thighs as he pushes spoonful after spoonful of chocolate pudding between his lips, and flops over when Bucky’s thighs expand all at once. Steve flops face first into Bucky’s tits, and Bucky just laughs, pushing Steve’s head into them.

It’s the greatest night of Steve’s life.

By the time they run out of food, Bucky isn’t chubby. He’s not fat. He’s _huge_. He looks like Bacchus, sitting on the couch in only a pair of boxers, his huge, stretch marked stomach resting between his fat thighs. He grins, and reaches for Steve, every part of him jiggling with every movement. “C’mere,” he says, “‘Cuz I’m so full that I’m not sure that I can make it to your bed.”

Steve obliges.

 

——

 

Steve falls asleep, head pillowed on Bucky’s tummy.

When he wakes up, it’s on a plane of hard abs.

“Shit,” Bucky says, stirring around the same time Steve does. He looks down at his body, back to normal, and frowns. “That was fast.”

“It was,” Steve agrees, trying not to mourn Bucky’s curves. It’s enough that they’re together now, right?

Bucky gets up and stretches, realizing too late that he’s still in his large pair of boxers. They start to fall and he barely catches them. He laughs. “Jesus,” he says, eyeing the excess fabric. “I was _big_.”

“You were,” Steve says, watching Bucky with a sad sort of smile.

Bucky’s smile fades. “Is it bad that I…” he starts, then looks down, shy, cheeks going red.

Steve sits up, feeling sharp and awake all at once. “What is it?”

“I miss it,” Bucky says, glancing at Steve, almost as if he’s looking for approval. Steve tries to keep his face calm, even if every part of him wants to run out and get two dozen donuts for Bucky to eat. “I mean, I’m not sure that I could even _get_ that big again, but…”

“You wanna try?” Steve asks, voice dry.

“Would that be something you’d want?” Bucky asks, sounding small.

“Yes,” Steve says, standing up and closing the space between them. He wraps an arm around Bucky, hand resting at the small of his back. When he’s this small, Steve’s hand takes up so much space. Last night Bucky’s wide back dwarfed Steve’s hand. “I’d like that a lot.”

Bucky grins. “Alright then,” he says. “Guess I shouldn’t throw these away.”

“No,” Steve says, “You shouldn’t.”

 

——

**One Year Later**

——

 

And Bucky is up fifty pounds.

“It’s not how I was back then,” Bucky says as Steve drops a chocolate-covered raspberry between his lips. Bucky chews, swallows, and pulls Steve down for a kiss. “But Jesus, taking our time is a helluva a lot of fun.”

Steve grins, one hand on Bucky’s stomach, the other on the plate of fruit. “Couldn’t agree more.”


End file.
